Page 10 of Evil Bones
“Is Ruthie still refusing to consider college?”
“Yes.”
“I’m good with that.” I was. Not everyone is meant to go that route, at least not right out of high school.
Katy offered another noncommittal “mmm.”
“She can always change her mind.”
“I don’t see that happening.”
Though I wasn’t certain of Katy’s meaning, I let it go.
“Do you know if Kit’s on board with Ruthie’s decision?” I asked.
“Ruthie says he is.”
“How’s Harry taking it?”
Katy’s response was an Academy Award–level snort. This time I had no doubt regarding the message.
Harry hadn’t pursued any education beyond high school, preferring parties and booze to English 101 and a cramped dorm room. Decades, marriages, and careers down the road, she still feels inadequate over her lack of a degree. Ruthie’s refusal to attend college was a flamethrower issue with my baby sister.
We passed the rest of the evening engaged in amiable conversation. I didn’t mention my mutilated animal corpses. Katy didn’t talk about her soldiers damaged in body and soul.
The tranquil interlude was a well-timed blessing, given the events about to unfold.
At ten, I headed home.
Not having spoken to Ryan.
Not having laid eyes on my great-niece.
CHAPTER 3
The next morning dawned unapologetically hot. And the humidity was going along for the ride.
I’m a person whose moods are strongly influenced by weather. Give me high temps and sunny skies and I’m happy as a lark. Let clouds gather or the mercury edge toward freezing and I’m grumpy as hell.
And, for the record, I’m not big on the white stuff. Unless I’ve gone seeking it deliberately—to ski, sled, or ride a toboggan—I’m good with snow for about twenty-four hours. Which is roughly the lifespan of the occasional dusting we get in Charlotte.
But the forecast would be irrelevant that day. I’d be spending every minute inside the sterile walls of the MCME.
Still, I was feeling upbeat as I left the Annex. Until I rounded the building and saw an Amazon driver drop a package on my neighbor’s front porch. Literally. Drop it with a loud thud.
“Gently, please,” I admonished, smiling. “That box could contain her grandma’s crystal goblets.”
“Yeah, lady? I could leave it at the curb.” The guy was pale and lumpy, with limbs that might have worked well on a spider monkey. A short roll-your-own bobbed on his lower lip as he spoke.
“There’s no need to be rude,” I said.
“There’s no need for you to be telling me my job.”
Removing, crushing, and dropping the butt into his uniform shirt pocket, the man strode to his truck and roared off.
I stood a moment, offended and angry. Debating whether to report the incident. Knowing I wouldn’t.
Then I got into my car and drove away.
